When seated in the country cemetery I described in an April post, small strange clouds floated above, like spirits visiting from another realm.
A crazy concept you say? Perhaps, but it was just one of those moments–like people say about a hilarious experience that falls flat with only mere words to describe it – you simply “had to be there” to believe it.
Each season holds its special experiences. Spring and fall seem the most spiritual to me.
October is another month when I begin to feel a closer presence of those who have passed on. But in a positive way. Nothing to do with skeletons and scary seances. The feeling comes to me as I see trees at dusk silhouetted in the sunset, feel the heartbeat of the earth, sense the imprint of all who have walked upon it.
Cemeteries are lovely places to spend perfect spring days. I have couple of favorites I frequent often, though time and weather hadn’t combined to make visits viable so far this rainy spring.
I usually breeze past the one where I discovered this small and quite old stone Monday morning, surrounded by new spring dandelions. I’m so glad I took the time to stop and enjoy the sunshine and enchanting feel of spring.
I’ll be featuring more of the photos I snapped in upcoming posts.
After a tour of the site, and a bit of entertainment by the birds lurking in the bushes growing amid the stones and the ones perching in the trees standing tall on the hillside above, I settled on a bench placed beside the stone of a man who lost his life at age 44, much missed by his father.
The stone held a shrine to the man, the most touching part being the verse composed by a grieving but grateful dad, a tribute to the son who gracefully accepted his fate and requested to be buried at this peaceful site.
The verse invites others to rest upon the bench. I was delighted to do so. In gratitude I offered respect to the memory of the man buried there, sympathy to his father.
Small white clouds floated overhead, seeming like spirits hovering in the bright blue sky. One of them appeared to glow in an odd sort of way. It settled for a time above the tree that most closely overlooked the referenced gravesite. Perhaps that thought seems a bit far-fetched, but it was just that sort of whimsical morning. In spring all manner of miracles seem possible.
Golden dandelion polka dots decorated Mother Earth’s bright green dress. The air was scented by early spring’s chlorophyll rich perfume.
For a few moments I was able to give my mind a break from the threat of the current pandemic, its effect on our collective health and economy. Part of building a strong immune system for protection against the virus depends upon giving ourselves frequent breaks from stress. During these days it’s even more important to make it a point to seek out special moments like my cemetery visit.
Nature is a very effective healer. Find an uncrowded site not far from your home and make it a point to seep in the energy of springtime. Take reasonable precautions like wearing masks and maybe gloves in case you encounter other persons or their personal items.
The threat of disease may be worrisome for a while, but one special perk is that it can make us more appreciative of our home’s simple pleasures and the wonder of nature.
Pictured is the old dugout of a local hangout – a little baseball diamond across from a rural tavern.
The entire property is for sale, due the passing of the owner. In earlier years, I would drive by this site, hear the shouts of spectators, slow for pedestrians crossing to the tavern.
No one has played at this field in years, but the tavern was still open as long as the owner was alive.
I wonder who will purchase it at the auction. Likely, insurance requirements will prohibit it’s re-opening as a ball park. Sandlot ball, as they used to call it is no longer. Today, everything is organized, every kid treated as a future major leaguer. The focus is on beoming a professional, not on fun.
What new enterprise will take over these grounds, haunted by the calls of strikes and outs, laughter of children, cracks of bats?
A farm pond shimmers in the sunshine, finally warm. We’ve had a cool spring but the weather will be rising into the eighties on several upcoming days.
It would be nice to have some moderate temperatures before summer swelter, but we will take whatever warmth we can get.
Rain has been prevalent too. We’re all hungry for idyllic outdoor moments like the one I enjoyed last weekend watching the horses at spring plowing days.
Two of my favorites wait by the trailer, their part in the show over.
This Belgian and Percheron seem like old friends. Plowing and pulling buddies, they await the trip home after two days of showing and camping overnight at the site. Regal and alert the first day, they appeared weary at the time this picture was taken. I imagine they were ready to sleep in their own stall that night.
Queen Anne’s lace towers over chicory in this photo. Often they are nearly the same height but that wasn’t the case on this roadway.
Observers of nature don’t always need a calendar to tell them what month it is. When rural roads sport a fresh lacy border of lavender and white, I know it’s July. Chicory and Queen Anne’s Lace appear often together, and they make for a lovely match, a fairy tale style display for those who appreciate Mother Nature’s floral artistry.
Chicory blooms, the pale purplish puffs dancing on wavy stems are one of my favorite wildflowers. I don’t remember noticing them till I was in my twenties, though they must have been there all along. They resemble bachelor’s buttons a bit and are similar in color, though paler than the typical cornflower blue of the cottage garden plant. Chicory was originally imported as a coffee substitute, I believe, and is still sometimes added to coffee blends, I believe to curb bitterness?
Queen Anne’s Lace I seemingly always knew, as my mother pointed them out when I was still so young that the plants towered over my head. Though never a fan of lace on clothing for myself, I love the dressy casual style of the off-white blooms that top wiry stems with feathery foliage. I’m not sure why this plant, also called wild carrot, was imported. The flat blooms all sport one tiny purple floret in the center.
Apparently both plants like dry stony soil as they thrive beside roadways. I see them along narrow gravel lanes, and also at the edge of the median strip of prominent divided highways.
They bring back memories of chauffering my mother along country roads in midsummer. She always pointed out the first chicory blooms after I learned about them and made her aware of their presence and the basic history of their arrival in America.